


Silent Efforts

by cairn



Series: Grander Narratives [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Jealousy, No Spoilers, Unrequited Love, angst on a china plate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:25:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cairn/pseuds/cairn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do I distract you?" she had asked. </p><p>He had looked irately back at her; the expression would become familiar. Jakob's look of half irritation and half disdain. "Nothing could distract me from my work for my lady."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Efforts

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea whether my subtlety is too subtle. Or not. Please advise.

"Blue hair," he had said, "is hardly fitting for a maid."

His first words to her. Flora had glanced at him coolly. "Silver hair is hardly fitting for a butler, either."

This was when they had been the same height, still. He hadn't quite hit his growth spurt yet, and when he returned her look, she was able to sneer down her nose at him slightly - just lightly enough that no one who walked in would suspect.

"I suppose you are refusing to dye it?" They had been polishing something silver and awkwardly shaped. Flora could remember trying to unstick melted candles from a sconce that day and thought for that reason they had been working on a chandelier, but she was not sure. 

"I suppose you are as well," she had returned. 

"Silver hair is not so uncommon as to be a distraction." Jakob had flicked it slightly over his shoulder, but it had been just short enough that it fell back in place down his back. 

"Do I distract you?" she had asked. 

He had looked irately back at her; the expression would become familiar. Jakob's look of half irritation and half disdain. "Nothing could distract me from my work for my lady."

She had smiled tightly at her warped reflection in the silver they were polishing. "How dutiful."

"As every maid and butler ought to be." He had delivered it like a warning, but Flora knew he had not quite grasped how much of a warning it should have been.

Subjugation was the first word that Flora learned in Nohr, metaphorically. Waking up to the loud bells in the bellows below the Northern Fortress that shook the servants awake at four in the morning. Tying her apron on, and then helping Felicia, who was inevitably stumbling or about to rip her tights on her unpinned brooch, with hers. Eating briefly before mounting the stairs (and stairs and stairs and stairs) to wake the young girl they had been assigned to care for. Curtsying. Keeping her headband perfectly white. Pretending she enjoyed tending to fires when she was always trying to keep her fingers as far away from the flames as she could. Smiling. 

Practically, she learned what starching was. What tea was (real tea, the head maid had told her, snarling, not that tribal scum you drink out there) and how to boil it. How to pour said tea in an arc so the steam and aroma filled the room. How to fold napkins so they became little fans on a plate. How to polish silverware, and how to set a table correctly. How to kindly wake Corrin up in the morning (though this task was normally given to Felicia, who was always eager to smile at her mistress). How to get dirt out of clothing. How to lie to her sister every day. How to smile blandly enough that neither Corrin, nor Felicia, nor Jakob suspected her quiet, iron-freezing bitterness.

The only real luck she had run into was her sudden aptitude for the tasks set before her. While her sister still tended to trip, break things, and wail in upset horror, Flora was slowly assigned tasks of greater and greater importance. Scrubbing the floors with Felicia at age six and seven became scrubbing dishes at age eight and nine, which became setting the tables at age ten and eleven, and finally turned into caring for Lady Corrin at age twelve onwards. She could wax the floors until they shone, scrub all stains out of the brightest white of fabrics, prepare the most expensive of teas, and was even trusted to polish the most expensive of silverware and dust the most treasured of books in total solitude. Flora was often assigned trainees, who followed her around in awed silence and whispered to one another in breathless fluster that the air was often chilly around her. 

"You should learn to keep them in tighter line," Jakob had said sharply. She had been passing him in the corridor, two girls, barely ten, coming to a sudden stop at her heels. He was arranging the curtains around a window, thick black curtains blending with his satin vest. "They bring only discord into the kitchens if you don't train them properly."

"Oh? And what would you do differently?" she had asked, her hands cooling sharply as she felt blood rush to her face. 

"Advise them to keep their mouths unless spoken to." He had turned around and directed a glance at the two girls, who barely stopped themselves from flinching visibly. 

Flora had let out a thin breath. "I remember not too long ago that someone had to teach you the same thing, Jakob."

"Excuse me?" He turned his eyes to her now, and she felt the air dip in temperature dramatically as she fought down her rising irritation. The little seven-year-old boy who had first entered the kitchens had only sharpened his silver tongue over the years. The same whetstone of work, she thought, that had sharpened her as well.

"Good day, Jakob. I would talk longer, but I have duties to attend to." She spun on the heel of her shoe and strode from the room. 

"If you mean to suggest that I do not take my duties with the utmost seriousness -" She cut off his voice by shutting the door to the room behind her two followers. The girls fidgeted with the dust cloths and brushes in their hands when she looked at them. 

"Who… is that?" One of the two girls asked, barely hiding her nervous swallow before the words.

Flora smiled wanly, turning to the tables and chests before them. "Never mind him or his temper - let's begin."

The next day, over the servant's breakfast at five in the morning, Jakob had caught her elbow while she poured herself and Felicia two matching cups of coffee, with three sugars to add to Felicia's to give the dozing girl an extra dose of energy. "I do not approve of your actions yesterday."

"Forgive me," Flora had said smoothly, not pausing in pouring her coffee in a perfect stream. "I did not realize you were another lord for me to serve." 

"How -" Jakob had released her arm. "How dare you. I am trying to keep order in this kitchen - you are teaching those girls to disrespect their elders."

"Oh, because fearing you will make them malleable?" Flora had stirred the sugar cubes, one at a time, into Felicia's drink. "I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand the importance of kindness to a young child."

Jakob had spluttered at her for a second, the closest to shocked she would ever see him. Before he could respond, she had walked between a pair of cooks to Felicia's prostrate form on the table.

It was well-known in the kitchens that Jakob had at first been an absolute disgrace to the profession of butler. She had watched him turn from Felicia's equal to perhaps her own; their only difference was his unending respect for Lady Corrin, delivered in perfect cups of tea and sandwiches with the crusts cast away as too tough for his lady. 

Days passed, each similar to the other; dark mornings segued into dark nights. The only variety to their schedule came when the royal siblings visited their lonely sister in the north-most castle of Nohr. Preparations were intense; servants scurried to and fro, and Felicia was normally sent away to avoid any disaster under the pretense of keeping Lady Corrin company. The day before their arrival, she had been sent to the parlor to set the tables for the company's arrival, and opened the door to find a partner in the duty. 

He was folding napkins with practiced ease, only pausing to take her in as she entered. "It appears we will be working together again." 

Flora had nodded at Jakob. "It appears so." 

"I do not understand why you still work here," he had said, eying her dress critically.

"I don't understand your meaning," Flora had said calmly, picking up the first stack of placemats and beginning to lay them out around the long table. 

"You despise your work here," Jakob said, eyes narrowing. 

"That is not true," Flora had returned, fixing the placemat in front of her into a perfect parallel with the edge of the table.

"Do not lie to me," he had said coldly. "Your lies to Lady Corrin are fault enough."

"It is not a lie." She had met his eyes. "I am good at what I do, and I enjoy doing what I am good at."

"You may complete your tasks, it is true." Jakob had frowned. "But why you do them is mere duty, nothing more."

"What else could one ask for?" Flora had returned, beginning to set placemats once more. "Not all of us can adore our mistress so completely."

"How dare you disrespect milady!" 

"As always, Jakob, you jump to the most dramatic of conclusions," Flora said sharply. "Adoration and respect are two different things. Perhaps in some ways they are incompatible."

"Incompatible?" When his temper flared, Flora knew, hot patches of red flared on his cheeks and neck like a rash. "Explain yourself."

"Adoring someone means you entirely disregard their flaws. Respect means you see the flaws but you are willing to accept them." Flora had eyed him from the other side of the table, setting the last placemat of her stack down. "And now I suggest you help me out, else your words of adoration and respect seem truly hollow."

"I have already stoked the fire, waxed the floors, polished the cabinets and washed the windows, and before you even entered the room, mind," Jakob had snapped. "But yes, Flora. I will assist you."

A silence had pervaded the room as they worked, broken only by the clink of crockery and the patter of feet on the floor above them, barely audible. Flora had continually glanced at him - the furrow in his brow, the strands of white hair slipping over his shoulder while he worked. The careful placement of silverware on napkins, perfectly parallel to the diameter of the plates they lay beside. The aristocratic line of his nose, the deftness of his fingers. 

She had to admit he was her equal in their duties; such tasks with Felicia would have taken at least twice the time, and perhaps then some to account for a perhaps-inevitable slip or spill of some sort. While they were both careful to avoid each other's eyes, she had felt his gaze on her while she arranged the centerpiece, and she had also taken her turn considering him with a stare first wary and then perhaps slightly accepting.

Once they had finished their task, they both had straightened in mute recognition of its completion; he had brushed down his cuffs with a careful hand and she had readjusted her gloves to fit her palms neatly. This man, Flora had observed, was fastidious to a fault. He was abrasive to the point of cruelty, unshakably calm until baited, and tended towards violence rather faster than she would have liked. Nonetheless, this man, she had known even then, would be in her life for perhaps the rest of her living days. 

He had paused when she cut in front of him quickly, putting a hand on the door knob in front of him before he could exit. "I have offended you," Flora had offered.

He had surveyed her coldly. He had gained the extra inches, finally having hit his growth spurt, and he had used it to his advantage. "Perhaps."

"I ask your forgiveness," she had said. "If we do not get along, Lady Corrin will notice. And I know you are always striving for - what was it you said? - order in the kitchens."

"Yes." Jakob had nodded slowly. 

"Then I propose that we put aside our differences. Our time here will be long, and our duties are similar. There is no way to avoid it; we must get along." Flora had watched him carefully as he examined her expression suspiciously.

There had been a pause, and then he nodded, gracefully. "I agree. For Lady Corrin, I will also put aside our differences."

Flora had taken this as the best apology she was going to get, and had opened the door for him to walk through. She hadn't expected him to pause just a few steps outside the door.

"I am surprised. You have proven to be rather more reasonable than I expected," he had said, his back to her.

Perhaps she had not expected the words, but they rattled in her mind every other time she saw him passing by her in the castle. His cruel words began to sluice off her back when he directed them at her, and he spoke to her in that tone more and more rarely. They worked together in silence, side-by-side in the kitchens, and he would not correct her work as he did to each other servant. Even Felicia, sweet, ditzy twin of hers, had noticed, saying hesitantly, "Perhaps he likes you?" She had brushed off the idea with a short laugh. He cared for no one but Lady Corrin, surely. 

"Suppose you had come into the room a second later than you had!" Jakob's voice. She had recognized it immediately even though she had still been at the top of the stairs, and when she had walked into the kitchen she was greeted by a familiar scene. Felicia, flushed and looking at the floor, had stood by an open oven, which Jakob was gesturing to irately.

"I - I was only going to use the restroom very quickly," Felicia had began.

"Stuff and nonsense!" Red dots pinked his cheeks, the only color on his person besides the purple diamonds on his vest. "You cannot be trusted to use this, Felicia."

"What is going on here?" Flora had known rather well what was going on.

"Flora!" Felicia's eyes had welled up, hands leaving their protective position over her chest to try to beckon her twin over to her.

"Yes, please Flora," Jakob had said insistently, "come over here and please show your sister how to work an oven. By the gods, I can't leave this room for five minutes."

"It's fine, Felicia. Just go ahead and fix your apron in the bathroom for a second," Flora had said, catching her twin's hand reassuringly for a second.

Felicia had shot one quick glance at Jakob, who was already about to burst again, and scurried from the room. 

"Jakob," Flora had begun, "you know how hard she tries."

"Tries?" Jakob had scoffed, running a hand briefly through his hair. "Would you call this an effort?"

"She forgot to put the pastries in," Flora had surmised easily. "And yes, it is a shame. However, that does not mean we should be wasting time scolding her when we could be swiftly fixing the mistake."

"The only mistake here was the mistake someone made in making her a servant here," Jakob had snapped.

Flora had felt her pulse rise. "Jakob, stop your complaints for a minute and listen to me. My sister and I did not decide to come here. So yes, you are correct in assuming that it was a mistake to place us here. We are ill suited to be maids."

"You are hardly ill-suited to it," Jakob had said, and she had paused for a second, uncertain if she had heard him correctly. "But Felicia, on the other hand."

"Regardless of your beliefs, neither of us asked to be placed here." Flora shot him a level stare. "I doubt that she would have chosen to come here if she had had a choice."

"That is… beside the point." Jakob had lost a bit of his steam; he had leaned on the counter beside him.

"Not entirely." Flora had lifted the tray of pastries Felicia had forgotten into the oven and shut it once again, checking to ensure the temperature was correct. "Perhaps if she had a choice, she could have chosen differently; you could have blamed her for her choice. As she did not have a choice, however… I ask that you be kind."

"You keep going on about choices. What do you mean, exactly?"

Flora had stopped, bent over the oven, pretended to check the temperature for a minute longer. Her mind flew to blizzards, to trees bent over with the weight of snow. "Felicia and I were both… placed here when we were young."

"Placed?" Jakob had asked sharply.

"Yes." Flora had straightened, avoided his eyes. "Something rather unfortunate happened with our family. Our father agreed - for certain reasons - to have us sent away."

"To -" Jakob had stopped his words abruptly. 

Flora had watched the counter in front of her, had gazed at her hands on the marble stained with flour. The seconds had seemed each like ten minutes; she had never spoken of this to anyone who had not known of it before.

"Flora…" The weight of his words had been strange. Perhaps almost warm. Or perhaps they were only that way because she was cold. "I suppose I may - in a manner - sympathize."

"You can?" Her words had been barely a question, barely a breath out of her lungs at all. She had looked at him. His face, an expression so near to being careful. Almost the same expression he had when he looked at Lady Corrin. 

"I, also, was placed here by my family. For… certain reasons, as it were." 

"You…" It was like seeing him for the first time when she had been six and he seven - when the way his hair flickered in the dim lamplight had been like the shine of fresh snow, the way his eyes had glanced around had reminded her of the black swelling of the cold water under the ice at the lake's edge.

"Yes." Jakob had turned to face in the same direction she had, his own hands on the edge of the counter in front of them. "I also was, in so many words, placed here."

"I am sorry to hear that," she had said, and for the first time in a while, the nearly hollow expression rang true. 

"No need," Jakob had responded, not quite as brusquely as he normally did. "I have rather recovered."

"And I am rather glad that you have." Flora had almost smiled, almost.

He had snorted, and she had waved him off. "No, truly, I am glad, Jakob. As difficult as it has been, perhaps."

"Glad I have recovered?" Jakob had pushed away from the counter, turned to check the pastries although she had in truth only just put them in.

"Glad to have met you." He had almost turned around, but quickly faced back to the oven once again. Flora had smiled at his back, at the length of silver down the black of his vest. At the man who -

"Flora, Jakob!" Felicia had sprung into the room, cheeks pink from exertion. "Lady Corrin wants us!"

"We don't have a second to lose!" Jakob had straightened immediately, eyes wide. "Flora, you keep watch on the pastries. Felicia, follow me, and keep up." 

Felicia had shot a quick look at her sister, and Flora had quickly glanced away in pretense of eyeing the oven once again. Felicia, for all her stumbles, could be rather precise in her analysis of her sister, and Flora would have rather had Felicia ignorant of her emotions swinging from the heat of closeness to the heat of irritation. For Jakob cared for no one but Lady Corrin.

It was true. No one filled his life and dreams but his precious Lady, Flora was certain of it. His expression when he saw Lady Corrin was nothing short of rapturous. He held her hand delicately, in the same way he held flowers when he arranged them for her bedside table. He held his back in a straighter arc when she walked in the room, was careful not to scold Felicia in her presence, never seemed on the verge of snapping at a passing scullery maid when Lady Corrin was close at hand. When milady wished to leave the house, Jakob would bring in a pitcher of snow for her to touch in wonder, or a basket of autumn leaves for her to rifle through. When milady called for refreshment, Jakob was pushing the cart. 

One of the very few tasks Jakob was not allowed to assist with, for reasons of propriety, was helping Lady Corrin into the many-layered dresses she was forced to wear by the harsh winters of the Northern Fortress. Or, at least, Flora was told they were harsh. In reality, her hands were likely colder; Lady Corrin often flinched away from them when Flora buttoned up her under-petticoats. 

"Are you happy here, Flora?" Lady Corrin had turned her eyes to meet Flora's in the mirror one morning. Felicia had half-turned from the wardrobe behind them, mouth a little circle of surprise. 

Flora had paused. "Of course, milady." She had been surprised to hear less of a lie in her tone, to feel less of the sting of long-repressed guilt. 

She had pondered the reasons for the question, and for her answer, long after the fact. Night fell on the fortress, but as she stirred her final cup of tea for the day, she still considered it, eyes resting mindlessly on the wooden table in front of her in the kitchens. She somehow had begun to find herself picturing Jakob pouring tea whenever she poured herself a cup, found herself straightening her wrist and bending her neck to mimic the mental image. Tea that had once seemed so bitter was now calm, soothing. 

"It is rare to see you so out of sorts." Flora had started up, met Jakob's eyes.

"Do I truly look so distressed?" she had said. 

"Milady said you were upset since this morning." Jakob had sat down opposite her. "And you are wearing your debating expression."

"My debating expression?" Flora had blinked. 

He had smiled disdainfully. "You hardly notice you show your emotions so easily, do you?"

Flora had coughed lightly, a hidden laugh. "Perhaps I have not noticed, no." 

"Whenever you think upon something for a long time you wear that expression," he had explained as though he would to a particularly slow footman. "Surely you're aware."

"I'm afraid I am not." Flora had taken another sip of tea.

"You should not be drinking tea so late. You will sleep poorly and be unfit for service in the morning," Jakob had said with rote practice.

"I always drink tea at this time, and I am always fit for service in the morning, contrary to your belief." Flora had smiled thinly at him. "Regardless, you would not sit down to lecture me about my caffeine habits."

His brow had furrowed and she had to hide a small smile from behind her teacup. He had always thought he, of the two of them, was so inscrutable, while she was the one who was easy to read. She had enjoyed making him doubt that every once in a while. "Well, perhaps that may be so."

"Perhaps," she had agreed amiably, knowing he deflected in spite more than anything.

"Regardless, Flora. You must know that you have worried Lady Corrin. What troubles you?"

"What troubles me?" Flora had paused. "Are you, perhaps, being kind, Jakob?"

"I have no time for such kindness," he had said quickly, expression the familiar one of half disdain and half irritation, but put upon a half-second too soon. Flora had seen the small pause of embarrassment between her words and his own. 

"Of course not." Flora had smiled outright, which had only served to make him more flustered and thus more disdainful.

"Your troubles, you must know, are far inferior to those of Lady Corrin, and as a servant you must do everything in your power to keep her happy, at whatever cost. I trust you are aware of this." He had looked down his nose at her again. 

"I am." Flora thought of snow and freezing wind, of cold metal blades under her fingertips as she trained before her father. Of steaming mugs of drinking chocolate that ringed Felicia's mouth and made them both smile. Of soldiers who wore black and gold, who rode horses through the snow, dirtying it, yellowing and blackening it to match their armor. At whatever cost.

"Then I trust that you will rectify this and do your utmost to serve Lady Corrin tomorrow." 

She had merely looked at him. She followed the curve of his vest around his neck, the fall of his silver hair around his face, the tint of brown in his dark eyes, the gradually uncomfortable expression creeping on his face and making his mouth pull downwards. 

"Flora?" he had said, slightly bemused.

"Yes. Of course I will serve Lady Corrin tomorrow." She had stood up. "I believe I have an answer to my question."

"Your - Your question?" Jakob stood as well. 

"My question, yes."

"What question do you speak of?" He had followed her around the table to the sink, where she washed her cup and saucer and set them in the drying rack. 

"A question Lady Corrin asked me." She had wiped her hands quickly on the towel below the sink and straightened with it still in her hands

"What on earth could milady have asked you to do that I could not do?" Jakob had looked affronted. 

Flora had smiled. "It was merely a question, Jakob, not a command." 

"And what question was that?" Like anything to do with Lady Corrin, Jakob had needed to know everything, down to the most minute of details.

"Perhaps it was not so much her question I was considering, but my own answer." Flora had looked at the stairs up to the upper levels, where the kitchens led out to the main floor.

"You said something that displeased milady?" He had pinpointed her with his glare, which she had felt despite not even facing him.

"No, I do not believe so." She had paused, considered it. "No, I did not displease her with my words."

"Well then, what were you considering?" 

"I suppose…" Flora had paused. "What makes you happy?"

"Happy?" His surprise, flickering into confused disdain. "Why on earth do you ask?"

"You asked what I was considering." Flora had re-folded the dishcloth in her hands and returned it to its position below the sink. "I was obliging you."

"You were considering what makes me happy?" Jakob had folded his arms, and Flora had recognized it: lecture position. "Flora -"

"No. Don't be ridiculous." She had shaken her head; her pigtails, thin at her sides, flicked back and forth across her shoulders. "What makes me happy."

"And you had to ponder so deeply such a thing?" Jakob had seemed perhaps even more poised to spring into a lecture. Flora did not hear so much as see the inevitable launch into the next words of "Lady Corrin -"

"Is very happy to have me ponder such a thing, considering that she is the one who sparked such a train of thought." She had cut him off neatly and did not let him get a word in. "I am merely preparing myself to give her a better answer."

She had watched him pause, unfold his arms. As always, any mention of preparation relaxed him. "Ah. I see."

"As exemplary of a maid as ever," Flora had said lightly, not quite looking at him.

"Exemplary is perhaps an exaggeration." Jakob had raised a hand, beginning to tick off a list. "You could stand to fold bed sheets tighter around the mattress, polish the backs of the soup spoons to a brighter sheen, and keep Lady Corrin's shoes cleaner. Among other things."

"Of course." Flora had smiled tightly, looking at the floor. The taste of tea soured in her mouth.

"But, on the whole." Jakob had paused. "I do not find you wanting in many ways."

Flora had felt the sink beside her begin to chill, felt the water pipes beneath her feet begin to frost. Heat that had risen to her cheeks had been instantly extinguished by the rush of cold. "Why, Jakob. I could almost believe you were flirting with me."

He had spluttered again, but reddened, and that flush had been her small victory. "Nonsense! How could you even consider such a thing. Such practice would be -"

"Rather indecent and improper and altogether cruel to our mistress?" Flora had passed him by, had watched his arm jerk so slightly away from her, and known that he too felt the breeze of cold air around her. "I am aware. Good night, Jakob."

"Flora," he had begun, but by that time she had left the room and had immediately gathered the cold to her chest once again, to her cheeks, to her nearly shaking fingertips. 

It was likely, she had known, that Jakob would have broken out of her grasp if she had turned to touch his arm, his shoulder, his back, his face. It was likely her hands would have been too cold, her gaze too chilly, her mouth burning too much like ice at his neck and his lips.

And like ice, like the glaciers in their slumber in the Ice Village, her love too was mostly invisible. It could be trodden on by others who themselves would never know its depths. It would do nothing but float in silence and freezing winds. 

The next morning, or perhaps it was several mornings afterwards, Flora had been fixing Lady Corrin's bodice in the mirror when the girl had turned to look at her again through the glass.

"Jakob mentioned the other day that you were considering something for me?" She had smiled, eyes light with curiosity.

"Yes," Flora had smiled delicately in return, eyes on the laces she was winding through fabric. "I was considering my happiness here."

"Oh, really?"

"Indeed, milady." Flora had tied the ribbons into a bow and stood back to survey her work. 

"And what did you find out? What does make you happy?" She had appeared genuinely interested.

"I suppose it is the tea here, milady." Flora had thought of a butler's tilted arm, of a morning spent cleaning what she thought was a chandelier. "Or the silverware to polish. Or the people I work with."

"I see." The princess, just as royal-blooded as Flora, had grinned widely. "It is so nice to get along with those around you."

Flora had smiled, the motion a silent effort. She could feel the palpable warmth with which Lady Corrin imbued the very room she sat in, and recoiled from it. "Of course, milady."


End file.
